Chapter Sixteen
THE LAST PLACE Saint wanted to be was riding behind Melody’s Chevy Spark on the way to her house. He’d never been there and had a feeling simply watching her walk inside and waving goodbye wouldn’t satisfy her.
If he had his choice, he’d be at his house in bed with Beth, but that pipe dream wouldn’t come to fruition any time soon.
At least he’d see her back at the clubhouse once he extricated himself from Melody’s clutches, although he loathed the idea of not being there when Copper filled Beth in on what went down at the laundromat.
She’d hate finding out they’d encountered the guy who hassled her on the side of the road, and she’d hate knowing he could come for her again.
Over my dead body.
If Copper wanted someone tailing Beth for the foreseeable future, he’d make damn sure he covered most of those shifts himself, even if it was typically a job for prospects or newer club members. It’d be the perfect way to stay close to her while keeping her safe and flying under the radar.
The trip to Melody’s place took about fifteen minutes. She lived in a newer townhouse development in eastern Townsend. While she drove her car into the attached garage, Saint pulled to a stop in front of the townhouse. He didn’t kill the engine, staying astride the bike to see her safely inside.
After exiting her car, Melody came straight to him, all swaying hips and sultry eyes. Maybe her tricks would have worked in the past. She was a beautiful woman after all, but Saint’s mind was already back at the clubhouse.
With Beth.
Melody stopped a few feet from his bike, standing on her small lawn.
Keys dangled from her right hand. The same hand she propped on her hip as she smiled at him.
“Thanks for the escort. Maybe I can return the favor and escort you inside.” Her voice dropped to a low, seductive tone that left little ambiguity to her statement. She wanted to go inside and fuck.
“I need to get back to the clubhouse.”
She pouted. “Oh, come on. You can spare a few minutes so I can properly show you my gratitude. Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She winked.
Saint sighed internally. He hated this shit, the hunt and the games.
When he wanted to fuck, he went out, found someone willing, and made his intentions clear.
Mutual physical satisfaction and nothing more.
When it was over, he went home. He’d never, not once been tempted to stick around for a repeat, a morning-after conversation, or even a real date.
He knew himself that he had a bit of an obsessive personality.
It served him well over the years in meeting his goals and advancing in the club.
But when it came to women, that same level of energy could be intense.
Most people didn’t want the kind of codependent, all-consuming possessiveness he’d give and demand.
He wasn’t a dick and didn’t want to control someone, but if he ever got seriously involved with a woman, he wanted their relationship to be the type where they wove every single aspect of their lives together.
The kind where they couldn’t breathe without each other, not because one person demanded or forced it, but because they both wanted and needed it.
He’d mentioned this to Makenna once, years ago. She’d laughed and told him to get therapy. By now, she’d probably forgotten the conversation or maybe thought he’d outgrown the thoughts he’d had in his twenties, but they’d never gone away. If and when he fell for someone, it would consume him.
Unfortunately, he could feel himself inching toward those feelings when he thought of Beth. Leave it to him to finally be interested in the one woman he could not have.
“Look at me,” he said, as gently as possible. “We’ve been at this dance for a while now.”
She raised an eyebrow. “We have. So, how about we stop circling each other and head inside.”
“I don’t want to sound like a dick, but I’m gonna be straight with you.”
Her smile wilted.
“It’s not gonna happen, Mel.”
“Excuse me?”
“This…” he waved a hand back and forth between them, “… us. It’s not going to happen.”
She laughed, but not the flirty giggle he’d grown accustomed to. This laugh had a harsh edge. “You’re kidding me, right?”
He shook his head.
She scoffed as she threw her hands in the air. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
Saint stiffened. “What?”
“Beth.”
“You’re crazy.”
Melody’s mouth twisted into a sinister smile. “Holy shit. That’s it. You’ve got a hard-on for the club princess. This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Mel,” he said, voice full of warning. “Stop.”
“No,” she said with a tinkering laugh. “I don’t think I will stop.
What the fuck do you see in that mousy little bitch?
” She grabbed her tits over her long dress.
“Look at all you’re passing up. I got tits, ass, and I know how to use my pussy.
Trust me, a man like you will not be satisfied with anything less. ”
“That’s enough, Mel.”
She arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Imagine how her daddy will react if he finds out his future enforcer gets hard for the princess?”
“Mel—”
“He’ll lose his mind,” she continued. “Probably take your patch.”
Her voice grated on his nerves like three-inch nails on a chalkboard.
“Doesn’t seem worth it when she’s probably a dead fish in bed anyway. I heard she had to come home because she couldn’t keep her boyfriend satisfied.”
“Enough!” Saint shouted. Never in his life had he been tempted to strike a woman, but if Melody didn’t shut her mouth, he might do just that.
Her eyes widened as she jumped. “Saint, I—”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Melody.”
“How dare y—” Her jaw snapped closed, probably due to the homicidal gleam in his eye. But it didn’t last long. “I’ve been hanging around the club for years… years. I deserve to be an ol’ lady.”
He didn’t give a fuck what she thought she deserved. There was no way in hell this woman would get within one inch of spreading gossip that would harm Beth. “If you want the slightest chance of staying close to the club, here’s what’s going to happen.”
She looked stunned, and any other time, he might have felt sympathy for her, but she’d destroyed any of that with her catty bullshit.
“You will stay the fuck away from Beth. No more lunches. No hangouts. Don’t let me catch you fucking looking at her. You wanna get fucked? There are plenty of single dipshits who’ll fuck you no questions asked. I am not one of them.”
“Saint…”
“And if you ever, ever threaten to go to my president with whatever horseshit you’ve drummed up in your head, I will personally make sure you can never show your face at our clubhouse again. You’re not ol’ lady material, Melody. An ol’ lady would never threaten someone in the club.”
Melody had been coming around the club since before he was a prospect.
They were around the same age, and he knew she had no blood family.
The Handlers were important to her. She’d worked at the diner for years, and her entire friend group revolved around his club.
Her long-standing connection to the MC was the only reason he didn’t ban her from the clubhouse for life, but he wouldn’t hesitate if she didn’t back off.
“You wouldn’t,” she said with less bravado than she’d had before.
“You have no idea what I’d do to protect my family.” He practically snarled the words, imagining just how far he’d go to keep Beth safe. No mountain was too high, no river too wide, and no man too unkillable. “Do not fucking test me.”
He must have expressed himself with enough conviction because Melody’s shoulders drooped, and she took a step back. “Well… I guess that’s that.”
He nodded. Perhaps she wanted an apology, but he had no intention of giving her the power in this situation. Melody would run with it and view it as a victory over him.
“Thank you for following me home.”
“Happy to do it. And I’m happy to stay your friend, Mel.”
“You can fuck right off with that, Saint,” she said, finding her voice again. “You don’t want me, you don’t get any part of me. I’ll find someone else to help me out next time. I’m done with you.”
He wished he could say he was sorry, but her dismissal was for the best. At least she wouldn’t be clinging to him at parties anymore. Most likely, she’d be moving on to another of his brothers within the week, and he’d be off the hook and forgotten.
Maybe Gator was looking for a new conquest.
Shit, he couldn’t do that to his friend now that he knew Mel had a vindictive side.
She turned with a huff and stomped to her front door, where she yanked it open and flipped him the bird before flouncing inside. Well, she’d made it home, safe and sound. His work here was done, lovely as it had been.
As soon as her door shut, he got the hell out of there.
Before he made it to the clubhouse, Zach called with a few favors and errands he needed completed for the club.
Zach’s tasks kept Saint busy for the next few hours, and by the time he finally made it to the clubhouse, it was early evening.
He’d long moved past antsy and into straight-up agitated with the need to see Beth.
After all that had gone down earlier, he’d expected chaos and commotion at the clubhouse, but enough time must have passed, and the place was calm and quiet.
“Hey, man,” Gator said as Saint reached the bar. “Drink?”
“Hell yes. Whiskey. Lots of it.”
“You got it. Yo! Prospect!” Gator shouted, though he stood behind the bar. “Saint wants some whiskey. Get your ass over here.” He winked at Saint.
“Seriously? The bottle is right in front of you, and he’s all the way across the room.”
Gator shrugged. “It builds character.”
The new prospect, Frisco, because he’d hailed from Northern California, hustled over. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked Gator, making Saint raise an eyebrow.
Sir? He mouthed.
“Whiskey for my brother here,” he said, pushing the bottle Gator’s way. “One for me too. Don’t be skimpy.”